Seeing Bunny, Lydia, or Khalid cry would not have jolted Top. Not even surprised him. Bunny, for all his size and experience, was a softie who really did believe that the good guys won in the end. Lydia also had a lot of heart beneath the wisecracks and trash talk. And Khalid, the scholar of the team, was a deeply passionate man, very religious, strongly invested in social justice and ethics. They would cry. They were all probably fighting tears now.

But Smith? Smith never showed a thing. Not a goddamn thing. Not when he killed. Not when his comrades went down. Not when he took a bullet. He was the only person who showed less on his face than Mr. Church.

And yet this—what the woman Lilith was saying, what they were all finding out about the strange mission they were on—was turning dials on the man.

Smith must have sensed him watching and turned slightly toward Top. He touched his left thumb to the tear glistening in his eye then reached out and smeared the wetness along the barrel of his rifle. He said nothing, did nothing else. It was a statement and he let Top interpret according to his own understanding.

Top nodded.

Maybe he did understand.

Chapter Ninety

Chapter Ninety

Abandoned Warehouse

Tehran, Iran

June 16, 2:32 a.m.

“Do you understand now?” asked Violin, her voice quiet in the pin-drop silence. “Why I had to be careful? Why I couldn’t just—”

“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “I understand.” Though I wished I could tear that knowledge from my mind. I looked at Church. He nodded, his face uncharacteristically sad.

He patted me on the shoulder. “I knew a fraction of this,” he said. “If I had known more … well, the Red Order and the Upierczi would have been more squarely on the DMS radar a long time ago.”

“We’re going to do something about this,” I demanded. “Right?”

Church gave me a fraction of an arctic smile. “What would your guess be?”

In my earbud I heard several of my team softly growl, “Hooah.”

Church turned to Lilith. “You should have told me this a long time ago,” he said, but his tone was gentle.

“It wasn’t your fight,” she said.

Church grunted softly. “Of course it is.”

Violin looked at me. “Joseph, you and your soldiers, you fight against madmen and terrorists to defend the world and a certain way of life, but your fight is a new one. There are older struggles.”

“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “Believe me when I tell you that you’ve made your point.”

She nodded and gave me a small smile that seemed to hold a thousand different meanings. Grace had a smile like that, and for just a moment I thought I heard Grace’s sweet voice whisper my name.